Shira

If they had one of those anonymous rehabilitation programs for folks like me, my introduction would be, “Hi, I’m Shira, and I kill people.” Except rehab suggests killing people bothers me. It doesn’t.


Neither am I particularly committed to anything other than not being caught. That sounded a shred on the hard-hearted side. I’m not. I’m a lot like you. I get up every morning, clean myself up, and check my phone to see what I have cooking.


Everyone has a job. Mine happens to be ridding the world of people who shouldn’t be here. Not that I’m making those decisions. People hire me, and I trust they’ve done their homework.


I’ve always been…different, never had a close circle of friends or even associates. Once I discovered I could do unusual things, I kept to myself. Those rare skills make me a perfect choice because I kill from a distance and leave no evidence. What I do is lucrative. I’m pretty much set even for my rather long lifetime.


In theory, I could quit anytime.


I say that after every job. That I should walk away, except I don’t. Tell you what. Don’t judge me, and I might spare you if your number comes up on my dance card. Deal?